Absconditus Draco Accubo
by squaredancer
Summary: A strange sighting sparks off rumors of the Dark Lords return with more followers and more power than ever before. He has stolen something, and the legendary Golden Dragon is desperate to get it back. Can Harry, Ron and Hermione put aside their past diffe
1. Silician Alley

Absconditus Draco Accubo  
  
* * *  
  
"Jordan!" came a mighty roar from the depths of the earth. "Jordan! Where are you, man?"  
  
A young knight came clanking up the hall, sweating profusely. He stopped outside the door and bent over, catching his breath. Even from outside in the bright hall paved in pure gold and lit with glowing jewels he could hear Ladon through the heavy golden doors. He could hear his labored breathing over the constant roar of the flames of hell beneath them and the chiming harps of the angels above them.  
  
He removed his helmet made of a rare black metal that could withstand even the hottest of fires. Molded by the elves of old and the metal coated with the breath of a Nundu, it was given to the human protector of the Sacred Chalice and melted by the flames of the most powerful of all Dragons ever to walk this earth.  
  
The Golden Dragon. Most revered Dragon of them all, his scales and wings are the color of gold, his heart as pure as any and he embraces all elements, making him the single, most powerful Dragon there ever was or will be.  
  
The Golden Dragon has never taken part in any aggressive action without good cause and he is without flaw, pure and unblemished. He is the defender of the Sacred Chalice that represents peace, nature and life. The Chalice, though the font of peace and truth, had to be hidden away because in the wrong hands it could wreak havoc upon the world and bring about its downfall.  
  
The knight stood up and took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. He pushed open the heavy golden door and walked into the chamber.  
  
"Ladon," he said solemnly.  
  
"Jordan. I have been calling you. Where is the Chalice?" he asked, getting straight to the point.  
  
Jordan avoided Ladon's eyes and looked down at his toes. "'Tis gone, Sir."  
  
There was an almighty roar and Jordan could tell that even the hells below were shaking because of it. The noise rattled his bones, deafened him and bore him almost unconscious.  
  
"Gone?!" he growled and suddenly the young mans form distorted, spreading out over a vast distance and his arms suddenly became larger, more pronounced.  
  
Then, standing before Jordan there was no longer a handsome man dressed in golden armor, but a frightful yet beautiful dragon, more so than any of the others he had seen.  
  
"I am sorry Ladon," Jordan said and took of his helmet, revealing handsome features and a mop of curly black hair. "I tried, but the man was too powerful. I barely escaped alive."  
  
"Alive?" Ladon growled, spreading his wings menacingly. "You were to protect the Chalice with your life. Now the Chalice is gone and yet you still live? I see I have made a grave mistake upon choosing you as its human protector."  
  
Jordan took a step backwards and sent a pleading glance to the dragon. "But surely, if we are to try and get the Chalice back, you will need me?"  
  
Ladon stamped his foot down on the floor and the castle shook. "The Golden Dragon of fairy tale legends need no one. Do you hear me Jordan? No one!"  
  
Ladon turned and left the room, leaving Jordan's lifeless body and severed head for the Nymphs to clean up.  
  
* * *  
  
"You foolish boy, why won't you listen to anything I say?" said a voice from the darkness of Knockturn Alley as Harry walked on.  
  
"Because what you are saying is absurd, Salamander. An absolute load of twaddle."  
  
Salamander sighed, struggling to keep up with Harry being only capable of an awkward hobble. "'Tis not twaddle, boy. 'Tis the truth I speak, and is that not what you seek?"  
  
Harry stopped walking and ignored the offers of unidentified substances from the strange and suspicious looking people that swarmed around him. "What makes you think I am looking for any sort of truth at all?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
"Is it not what every body seeks, boy? The knowledge of what has really happened what really is?"  
  
"What made you such an expert, Salamander? As far as I can remember, the only truth you have ever sought is where you were going to get your next shot of fire whiskey. That is not the sort of truth I am interested in."  
  
"That may be so boy, but I have moved on to better things. I am sober and have been for twelve minutes and counting," Salamander said proudly and puffed his chest out.  
  
"Ah yes, but was it in this last twelve sober minutes that you came across this strange apparition of your imagination?"  
  
Salamander stood stock still as he tried to understand what Harry had just said. He shook his head solemnly making his breadcrumb-covered beard waggle slightly. "Ah, well no. I mean not exactly."  
  
"Not exactly?" Harry asked, turning and pushing his way through the large throng of witches and wizards offering him a variety of unimaginable objects. Salamander followed in his wake, waiting until there was room enough to walk beside him.  
  
Huffing slightly, he pulled up beside Harry moments later and grabbed his arm, pulling him aside. "I may have been a little tipsy at the exact time I saw what I saw, but that does not mean it was a figment of my imagination, or that I am crazy."  
  
"That is yet to be decided," Harry said to himself more than anyone else. "Now listen carefully, Salamander. I am fed up of you always spouting off some ludicrous story. Last week it was sheep conspiring against man kind, the week before fleas were planning a suicide bombing and now this?"  
  
Salamander glared at Harry. "What do you mean, 'This'? This? This is not a joke nor a cry for attention!"  
  
Harry turned and left the old man glaring at his retreating back. "Do not worry, my boy. You will regret ever doubting me. I swear upon Ladon himself, you will regret it!"  
  
Harry ignored him and emerged from the dark, smelly alleyway and into the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. He protectively pulled his hood around his face and walked effortlessly through the sea of people. He came to a halt next to the Owl Emporium, waiting for someone to arrive.  
  
He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find another wizard, similarly dressed in thick woolen robe and a hood pulled tight over her face. He could still catch a glimpse of a thin wisp of hair floating by her cheek and escaping from her hood. "Hermione," he said, nodding his head in acknowledgement.  
  
"Harry," she nodded back. "Ron cannot make it today. Family obligations, you understand."  
  
"Of course," Harry said knowingly and half-turned away from her. "Shall we?" he inquired, and nodded in the direction of Silician, another small alley leading off from Diagon, but much less notorious than Knockturn.  
  
"Of course," she replied and waited for him to take the lead. Harry stepped out of the somewhat protected area behind the large doorframe of the Owl Emporium and into the current of people.  
  
He moved easily through the throng with a skill that even the most agile of people would find difficult to master. Harry carried a certain air, a precise attitude that people around him could instantly feel without knowing it. He didn't need to dodge through crowds because the people unconsciously parted for him.  
  
He stepped into Silician across the way and waited patiently, his nostrils flared for the smell of anything other than manure. Hermione followed a few moments later slightly breathless. "How did you do that?" she asked, sounding respectful.  
  
"Don't know," Harry answered shrugging. "Comes naturally I guess." Harry signaled for her to follow and he turned, heading further down into the deserted alley. Hermione's footsteps followed his and as they passed one of the large manure bins he heard a muffled cry behind him and turned around, looking for any sign of trouble.  
  
"It schmells weally bad down hewe," Hermione said, the arm of her woolen robes disappearing into her hood, where Harry guessed she was holding her nose.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "You get used to it," he said curtly and carried on. "Hurry up, it's best not to stay in these places too long."  
  
Hermione hurried behind him, five of her small steps equaling two of Harry's large strides. "You don't suppose you could slow down a tad, could you?" she asked after a while, and Harry's shoulders stiffened visibly.  
  
"If you don't like the pace then find your own way," he said to her coldly over his shoulder but didn't slow and she quickly shut her mouth, moving to a short jog behind him.  
  
A few more minutes of awkward silence passed and Hermione found herself wondering where they were actually going until Harry came to an abrupt halt, causing Hermione to walk straight into him.  
  
"Watch where you are going!" he whispered furiously at her. "We're here."  
  
Hermione looked around the dead end of the long, foul-smelling alley snorted disbelievingly. "This is it?" she sneered. "This is where you have been living for the past four years? Good god, Harry! This is worse than I thought!"  
  
Harry glared at her and she pretended not to notice, though he knew that she knew he was angry.  
  
"Where is the door?" she asked, clearly not impressed by Harry's welcoming preparations. "Or is your establishment too classy for a door?" she asked and snorted at her own joke.  
  
Harry made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and pointed at the sky. Hermione looked up and stopped laughing. "A fire escape?" she asked, clearly flawed. "The entrance to your humble abode is a muggle fire escape?"  
  
Harry ignored her and jumped up, grabbing hold of the lowest rung and pulling himself up. He continued up the ladder not even bothering to wait for Hermione and was halfway up the side of the building when he heard a loud twang and a series of rather profuse swear words.  
  
He smiled despite himself and looked below. Hermione was sitting on the level below him, having stepped on the faulty rung that he skipped automatically and she was glaring up at him. "You knew didn't you?" she asked, venom in her voice. "God, Harry! You are so childish!"  
  
Harry sighed, his moment of pleasure spent and passed, he carried on and climbed over the top onto the flat roof. He ran over to the far side of the roof and quickly tapped his wand on the floor in the corner. "Angelus Nunqualm Demigro," he whispered and he heard it click on the other side. A handle magically appeared in the ceiling where he had tapped his wand and he pulled it up and waited for Hermione, dangling his legs into the hole.  
  
She finally emerged over the side of the building and stumbled onto the roof. "You do this everyday?" she asked, breathless as she stumbled over to his resting-place, anger long forgotten.  
  
"Twice," he said simply before sliding off the side and into the building. Hermione looked down into the darkness and couldn't see anything. She felt a pang of dread in the pit of her stomach as she realized she couldn't tell how far down it was.  
  
"Hurry up! I don't like leaving the hatch open for too long!" Harry shouted up from the depths and Hermione couldn't tell if it was just a distorted echo, but it sounded like he was shouting from a long way down.  
  
If he can do it, I can do it. She took a deep breath and launched herself off the roof and into the dark depths, vaguely aware of the trap door slamming shut above her. She expected the floor to arrive any moment now, but it didn't come. After falling about five seconds she could feel a scream coming on but before she could start it, she hit a large air filled balloon of sorts.  
  
The balloon cushioned her fall and then shrank, bringing her to the ground. Amazingly she found the child that still resided in her soul pleading to 'Go again, let's go again!'  
  
Hermione still couldn't see much, mainly because the place had absolutely no windows, and she strained to make out where Harry was, as he wasn't making a sound. "Harry?" she asked defiantly, suppressing her doubt.  
  
"Incendio!" he muttered and a small ball of flame erupted from the damp fireplace in the room and spread a flickering light over the surroundings. Harry watched Hermione from his seat by the fire with amusement. He could see her brain working knew exactly what must have been going through her head.  
  
He watched her take in the complete lack of furniture except for the chair he sat in, watched her look for other doors leading out and seeing none she chanced a glance above her, possibly looking for some sort of fire escape type contraption. There wasn't one.  
  
"Well this is...homey," she said, her lip turning up in disgust. "Can we please get on with business so I can get out of this...place?"  
  
Harry ignored her complete lack of manners, completely unlike her old self, and stood up, motioning her closer. But hell, is there anything left but her appearance that is anything like her old self?  
  
She walked over wearily, one hand in her pocket, gripping her wand protectively. Harry chuckled at her and she sneered at him.  
  
"Why did you ask me to come? So you could laugh at my displeasure of being in this...dump?" she said, looking speculatively at the pile of rubbish in the corner. He could never be bothered taking it out so it had been sitting there for months. It didn't matter though; the room was so large that he didn't even get a whiff of it. "Or did you want to laugh at my displeasure of being in your presence which is, if possible, even worse."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. He pulled the hood of his robes down and turned away. "Hermione, the world does not revolve around your sad little life."  
  
"How dare you insinuate that my life is 'sad'!" she said, spitting the word back in his face.  
  
"I have every right to insinuate anything I please Hermione, because since we met up you have done nothing but insult me. Forgive me if you find this partake of innocent conversation insulting. No, actually, don't," he said as an afterthought.  
  
"You are even more arrogant than I remember!" she shouted at him and pointedly turned to face the wall.  
  
"Some women like that in a man," Harry said with amusement.  
  
"But you are not a man. You are a childish little boy with a chip in his shoulder."  
  
"Granger. For once in your life please, just keep your thoughts to yourself."  
  
Hermione sighed huffily and turned back around. "If that is all you have to say to me, then I will leave."  
  
Harry chuckled loudly. "I'd like to see you try! This place was designed to keep even Salazar Slytherin himself out. It will be no easy task finding your way out of my, 'humble abode' as you so nicely put it. " he told her, voice full of mirth.  
  
"What was it you wanted to talk about anyway?" Hermione asked, a slight edge to her voice.  
  
"I wanted to talk about Blaise," Harry said coolly, looking her straight in the eye.  
  
"No," she said, backing away, her eyes full of anger. "No way, Harry. We went over this before."  
  
"Yes, I know we did," Harry said, advancing on her. "But this time it's serious. He's a Death Eater Hermione."  
  
"You're lying," she hissed at him. "I know where he is at all times!"  
  
"Where is he now?"  
  
There was a long silence and Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously at Harry as a glint of victory passed over his features.  
  
"He's visiting his sister in London," she lied, and Harry could tell she was making it up.  
  
"You and I both know he is doing no such thing, Hermione. He was spotted by none other than Igor Karkaroffe at the last Death Eater meeting."  
  
"Harry," she said, he voice shaking with anger. "Show how to get out of this shit hole now, before I hex you to the moon and back!"  
  
Harry smiled knowingly at her. "I'd like to see you try, and I've been to the moon. It's far too overrated."  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"Alright, alright," Harry said, raising his palms up. He walked over to a little hole in the wall, and pulling out his wand, he pointed it at the hole and muttered "Aureus Aquila Abeo."  
  
From the point that his wand was pointing at, a narrow walkway sprung up, leading all the way up to the top where the trapdoor was. Harry climbed onto the walkway and hurried up to the top, with Hermione close behind He pushed open the trapdoor and climbed out.  
  
Hermione followed close behind and after clambering out of the trapdoor she headed off to the other side of the roof and onto the fire escape without even muttering a word of goodbye.  
  
* * *  
  
"Severus," Albus Dumbledore said, looking grave. "Are you quite sure it was Zabini?"  
  
"Yes," Snape responded, sounding annoyed. "The boy was in my house for seven years, I think I would be able to recognize him. It has only been four years after all, since graduation. And plus, Igor has met the man. Unmistakably Blaise."  
  
"Yes, yes of course Severus, forgive me."  
  
"Well now that we know, what do you plan on doing about it?"  
  
"Do not know, Severus. I think that this is a very sensitive matter that needs to be handled with utmost caution. If Zabini thinks that we have figured him out then one of our very important Order members could be at great risk."  
  
"Yes. Miss Granger. Surely we could get someone to tell her of the great risk?"  
  
Ï have already thought of that, Severus. I have conatcted Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter and they were to meet Miss Granger this morning in Diagon Alley. If all goes well, we will have Miss Granger out of there before danger becomes evident."  
  
"Yes, assuming it all goes well. I may be mistaken, but didn't Potter and Weasley sever contacts with her after her wedding?"  
  
"Yes, that is correct, but there is no one you can trust more than an old friend with your best interests at heart."  
  
* * * 


	2. Strange Visitors

Absconditus Draco Accubo  
  
"Master," said the small voice from the doorway. "Master, there is a letter for you. Would you like to read it?"  
  
"Of course I would like to read it you fool," he retorted from his seat beside the fire.  
  
The balding man entered the richly furnished room with a small piece of parchment and quietly walked over to the chair. He moved around the scarlet red velveteen chair and held the paper out for him. The letter was snatched from his hand and Wormtail flinched slightly and moved away. Walking carefully he made his way back to the doorway and shut it with a quiet click as he left.  
  
Voldemort looked at the writing on the envelope and didn't recognize it. "Himself," it said in an untidy black scrawl. He cautiously turned the envelope over and read the two small words above the red wax seal. "Albus Flamula."  
  
"White Fire?" he muttered to himself, intensely curious by now. "What on earth does that mean?"  
  
Voldemort claimed to know everything, and most took that as a sign that he was some sort of seer. In truth he was nothing of the sort, he just had many spies and an acute sense of hearing which he put to good use. Never would he admit to not knowing something in front of his followers, because to show any sign of humanly weakness was to risk losing their respect and fear.  
  
Voldemort had always believed that fear was the key to an obedient follower, unlike that muggle-lover Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore chose respect and goodwill to keep his followers in line, yet that had its weaknesses. As did fear, but fear was much less likely to lose followers because of the risk to lives. Theirs and others.  
  
He shook his head briefly, ridding himself of childish thoughts that would clutter his mind and interfere with the designing of his plan. He undid the wax seal that had an unfamiliar picture on it and opened up the flap, revealing a slightly torn piece of parchment within.  
  
He pulled it from its resting-place, immensely relieved that he always wore gloves. Not that he thought anyone knew where he was, and for another thing... who would dare have the gall to bring him news by owl post? Whoever it is, is going to get a severe tongue-lashing and probably a very deserved Cruciatus Curse.  
  
Again, he shook his head. All these petty amusements filling up his head and reducing the intent to continue with his plan. He couldn't afford any mistakes, no flaws, and that meant no interruptions.  
  
He unfolded the parchment and saw again, the same untidy black scrawl. This time though it was done with more care. The words had obviously been pondered tediously because every new sentence the style of writing changed a little. That showed that each sentence had been written a certain amount of time after the last.  
  
He read through the letter and sighed heavily.  
  
"To Yourself,  
  
You will know who this is, I am sure. I have written to inform you of the circumstances at present. So far there has been no movement to obtain 'what was lost' from the antiquitas, but it is early days yet. As I am sure you know already, the world is at a turning point, and the removal of 'what was lost' from its resting-place has resulted in a large unbalance. All that is left to do before our plan may be carried out is to retrieve the other half of what we already have.  
  
I'm sure you understand the cryptic within this message and I must apologize in advance for any trouble that may come of sending this via owl.  
  
As you know the importance of the subject I speak, you must also realize that this letter must be burnt and its ashes spread to the seas so it does not tell of what was said within. Should this be intercepted, whomsoever is reading this without being invited, this very letter is going to blow you to pieces.... Now.  
  
I pray this reaches your undoubtedly gloved hands safely.  
  
Regards,  
  
Myself."  
  
Although Voldemort had no time for cryptic, this letter involved the plan in itself. In fact, without this information there wouldn't be a plan, so he gave in to figuring out the meaning behind it and ignored the knock on the door.  
  
The knock came again when he didn't answer and Voldemort decided that if that person knocked again then they would die a scrupulous death.  
  
Knock, Knock, Knock.  
  
"Men are not to be trusted, Ares," Ladon said, swishing his tail angrily. "Some are patient, I'll grant you that, but they are far too greedy to be trusted with something as important as this."  
  
"Ladon, you are being hasty. And I know that humans are patient, Jordan is evidence enough of that. He waited over four hundred years before finally letting someone succeed in taking the Chalice. It may have been simply because he was tired of guarding, or he may have other reasons but he paid with his life. We will have the Chalice back in no time but it cannot be done without the aid of a human."  
  
Ladon lowered his voice as a group of young hatchlings walked by. "But paying with your life is not enough, Ares. Unless you paid valiantly, guarding until your last breath. But he didn't! He even had the nerve to come back to the castle and apologize. Apologize for losing the most important artifact in the world, theirs and ours."  
  
"Ladon, you are being too hasty," the elderly Dragon Father warned him. You forget that though you are a great Dragon, feared and revered amongst all, there are still others who can help you."  
  
"Of course I know that, Ares. But I am the Golden Dragon of legends and Jordan was the knight. The Golden Dragons only human friend. He has brought shame on the human race."  
  
"Yes, exactly," Ares commented. "That is what I have been trying to say. Jordan brought shame upon the human race, not the human race itself. There are those out there who would give their lives just to keep their honorable name, never mind to save the world. You will find someone, I am sure of it,"  
  
Ladon thanked Ares for his help and turned, not bothering to even wave at the large amount of young female dragons waving at him. According to 'Dragon Dredge Weekly' he was the most eligible dragon bachelor. Mainly because of his position in Dragon society and his Golden scales, but he didn't care. He had a world to save.  
  
"Another round?" the innkeeper at the Leaky Cauldron asked as the man in the hood downed another shot of fire whiskey.  
  
"Please," the man said gruffly, with a nod of his head. He turned towards the door as it opened and watched the small group of witches and wizards enter silently and seat themselves in a booth in the corner.  
  
"I'll put it on yer tab then eh?" the innkeeper asked, and the man gave a sharp nod before quickly pouring his drink into his carefully guarded hip- flask and making his way to the other side of the room, where the silent party of people had gone.  
  
He seated himself next to the unmistakable form of a woman and nodded hello. "Tonks."  
  
"Moody," she replied sullenly, much unlike her usual self.  
  
They each acknowledged Mad-Eye Moody in turn and by the end, Moody had said hello to Remus Lupin, Arthur Weasley, Mundungus Fletcher, Sturgis Podmore and Hestia Jones.  
  
"Sorry we're late," Hestia said, the small dark haired witch opposite him.  
  
"No worry," he replied and pulled down his hood. His magical eye was rolled into the back of his head, examining two suspicious looking students who he knew were in third year, trying to obtain a glass of fire whiskey each.  
  
"How is teaching going at Hogwarts, Alastor?" Remus asked, sounding interested.  
  
"It's tiring. Did you know they still use the 'my toad ate my homework, Professor,' excuse? Not to mention the amount of students that put their wand in their back pockets! I'm surprised there aren't more of them walking around with no buttocks!"  
  
Tonks sniggered appreciatively. "Did you know, I think that other than evil possums, that subject is very important to you, Alastor. Maybe you should start a campaign!"  
  
The rest of the group laughed heartily, taking the opportunity to relax and enjoy themselves, and amongst the racket you could vaguely hear Moody. "What a fine idea, lass."  
  
Moody instantly stopped laughing and sat, brooding, as he watched someone on the other side of the bar with a scowl on his face.  
  
"Who is it?" Tonks whispered to him, noticing his somber expression and not wanting to disturb the others 'taking a load off.'  
  
"It's a Malfoy," he answered and the magical eye stayed where it was, fixed on its target.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt the festivities," said a cold voice from behind Hestia. "But I'm afraid you're needed at the office, Arthur."  
  
"Can't you see I'm on my break?" Arthur sneered back at Lucius Malfoy.  
  
"Of course I can see you're on your break, and as much as I enjoy chasing you around muggle London, Fudge says it's important."  
  
Arthur scowled and if looks could kill, Malfoy would have been stone cold on the floor, but he stood up nevertheless. "Very well, I am sorry to cut this short, but duty calls."  
  
He left the group as they said their good-byes and promised he'd catch up later.  
  
"Right," Remus said seriously. "We'd better get onto the topic before anyone else is called away."  
  
"I agree," Mundungus said, looking at his watch. "Theres a shipment of Canary Creams coming in at two and I need to be there."  
  
"Canary Creams?" Tonks asked. "Aren't those one of the ingenious inventions by Arthur's boys?"  
  
"Yes, they are," Moody interrupted. "And Fletcher is their supply manager as of last week. Now if you please?"  
  
"Of course, of course. Sorry," Tonks apologized and looked at Remus expectantly.  
  
"Thank-you," Remus said and took a large breath. "Well, as I'm sure you've all heard, there have been some strange goings on lately. For instance the sudden migration of the Augrey has caused a great uproar."  
  
"What's an Augrey?" Sturgis asked looking confused.  
  
"An Augrey," Remus said smiling patiently, "is a vulture like bird that emits a mournful cry when heavy rain is approaching. They are very shy creatures and tend to hide away in their nests, but it was very unusual because they migrated to the Americas last week, flying right over London itself, which was a highly unlikely event."  
  
"That's pretty unusual," Tonks commented, looking impressed. "But what about the millions of rats that fled from the sewers and onto the cargo ship heading for America? They wreaked havoc...it was hilarious!"  
  
"So we all agree that something strange is going on?" Remus asked, looking about the group.  
  
"Yes," they all said in unison.  
  
"Blaise? Blaise Honey, are you home?" Hermione called as she entered the door and plopped her bag down on the table. She heard some scrambling in the kitchen and smiled slightly, heading towards the ajar door.  
  
She was about to open it fully but something stopped her and she didn't. Putting her eye closer to the door she listened carefully to the sound of two male voices. One was definitely Blaise, she knew that much, and the other sounded slightly familiar.  
  
"Nope, no clue," Blaise said in a lowered voice. "But she's very smart, if she doesn't find out soon then I'll be very surprised."  
  
"Mmm. Always was a smart one, that Mudblood," said the familiar voice and Hermione struggled to put a finger on it.  
  
There was a scraping of chairs as whoever was in there stood up and Hermione scalded herself for being so nosy and quickly walked over to where her bag sat innocently. She picked it up and put it back over her shoulder, walked over to the door and opened it.  
  
She giggled slightly as she slammed the door, uttered a loud whoops, almost threw her bag onto the table and called out "Blaise?" loudly.  
  
"Yes, dear?" he answered, coming out into the hall unaccompanied.  
  
"I have had a horrible day!" she whimpered, practically falling into his arms. "How was yours?"  
  
"Oh, it wasn't exactly dandy. Fudge was on my back all say for the reports on strange animal activity. He knows I haven't even had a chance to open a book, let alone pick up a pen!"  
  
"I thought you said that you were in meetings all day?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Oh, I was," he said a little too quickly. "IT was a meeting with the panel and they seated me next to him. He didn't even try to listen to Mundungus' attempt at making foreign cauldron shipping legal. He has no manners that man."  
  
"Poor baby. Maybe a nice long bath would do you good?" she asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.  
  
Blaise laughed, sounding pleasantly like deep church bells and looked at her sheepishly.  
  
"I agreed to go to dinner with George Alder tonight. Maybe tomorrow?"  
  
Hermione smiled resignedly. "Sure."  
  
"Thanks, gotta run!" he said, grabbing his thick woolen over-robes and ran out the door, snatching up his black leather case on the way out.  
  
"Sure," she said to herself again and walked into the kitchen, pointing her wand and the kettle and making it whistle. She poured herself a cup of tea and sat down at the table where a faintly familiar smell lingered behind her nostrils.  
  
The man. It was the other mans smell. PETER PETTIGREW!! She remembered whom the voice belonged to. It was none other than Lucius Malfoy, notorious criminal and wanted Death Eater. Why on earth would he be in her kitchen speaking with her husband?  
  
The same Peter Pettigrew that was responsible for Harry's parents deaths and Harry's Godfather, Sirius, being sent to Azkaban for twelve years. But she wasn't going to think about that. She wasn't going to think about Harry.  
  
Still, why would he of all people be in her kitchen? It just didn't make sense. She refused to believe what Harry had been trying to tell her about Blaise because it just was not possible. Was it?  
  
She needed to speak to someone who would know what was going on. Someone she could always trust to help her in times of need. She needed to speak to Professor Dumbledore.  
  
Harry climbed down after Hermione had left, making sure he was not walking so fast as to catch up to her, and ignored her as he passed in Knockturn. She, in turn, ignored him also as they passed each other, though Hermione's way was somewhat interrupted as she had to push through people like a common mortal.  
  
Harry walked with ease down the cobbled street and made sure that his hood was pulled over his face. He hated being recognized, and these days, after the defeat of the Dark Lord, every other wizard seemed to deem himself strong enough to take on the 'Almighty Boy Who Lived'.  
  
He stopped in front of the Leaky Cauldron and passed through the brick door, pausing slightly as he saw the congregation of people in the other side of the bar, consisting of many members of the Order. He set his shoulders and seated himself in the corner, opposite the others and could almost imagine Mad Eye Moody's magical eye rolling back in his head and noticing Harry.  
  
He wished desperately that he wouldn't alert the others to his whereabouts, because if he did, they were sure to join him over here. He kept his head down and didn't look at anyone except the bartender as he came up and asked him what he would like to drink.  
  
Deciding to take a leaf from Moody's book he ordered a closed bottle of fire whiskey, and when it was brought over, he pulled out a small hip flask and poured the contents into it. He looked up and found Moody staring at him over his chunky shoulder. Moody gave a small wink before turning back around and shaking his head at the rest of the group who where inquiring what he was looking at.  
  
Harry gave a sigh of relief. Moody must have guessed that he wanted to be alone or he would have had the whole order over here by now.  
  
After about another quarter of an hour, Moody got up to go to the loo, quite unusual for Moody, but since the downfall of the Dark Lord he hadn't been quite so paranoid. Or maybe he just wanted to have a quiet word with Harry.  
  
Harry decided that was the reason. I mean surely, it was no coincidence that the toilet was situated right next to where Harry sat. In fact, right now, there was a rather unpleasant smell emitting from it and he crinkled his nose in disgust.  
  
"'ello there Harry," Moody said as he walked past and into the toilet, before suddenly appearing right at Harry's left arm, hood pulled up over his face.  
  
"What are ye doing here then?" he asked, nodding at the table in front of him.  
  
"Just came for a drink is all, Moody." He answered, somewhat blankly.  
  
"I haven't seen ye since you were last at Hogwarts, three and a half years ago. Where have ye been?"  
  
"Oh, here and there," he answered lamely again, not looking Moody in the eye.  
  
"Mmmm," Moody said, and it sounded more like a soft growl. "I see. Ye don't wish to speak much do ye?" he asked, and taking the hint when Harry said nothing he disapparated and a few moments later emerged from the toilet door. "I'll see ye then Harry. Take care," he said as he walked past and seated himself with the other members of the Order.  
  
Harry stood up and without thanking the bartender, left the Leaky Cauldron and ignored Lupin's questioning look as he glanced back at them. He knew it was Harry. How he knew, Harry wasn't quite sure.  
  



End file.
